


The Best Mirror Is An Old Friend

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Lydia in the JC ficathon run by sathinks</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Mirror Is An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ephemera, Jacie and Kathe for beta reading.

A lot of people think they know JC; most of them don't.

JC can smile at a fan one minute, then discretely wipe away their touch the next. Can get blisteringly angry and at times stubborn as he fights for his own career. JC may be soft and vague on the outside, but inside he has an iron will and dogged determination that lets him dance on sprained ankles and write song after song that will be pulled down and trashed. It's the way he hides, protecting that part of himself seen only by his closest friends. The ones that know he's not always cheerful, and has a sharp mind disguised by wandering words.

Justin counts himself as someone who knows the real JC 

It's early and he sits curled in his chair, watching as JC loads up his plate with food. 

"Tell me again why we're here?" Chris flops down in the chair next to Justin, then takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes. "We do Challenge every year; we don't need coaching."

Justin says nothing; he doesn't have to. They all know why they're there, to show Nsync is still standing despite their solo work. Adjusting to the grind of the group again is disconcerting, and Justin feels frustrated at times when he has to remember to consider the feelings of the others instead of making decisions on his own.  He sees that frustration reflected in all their eyes, but minute by minute, they remember how to exist as a group, easily slipping into old patterns. It's reassuring in a way that they can reconnect like this, and even Chris' foot bumping repeatedly against the chair can't annoy him. It's Chris, that's all, and the irritation is familiar as Justin slouches down more, and yawns jaw creakingly wide, not bothering to cover his mouth. 

They're both silent, and with someone else maybe the moment would be awkward, but it's not, and they're the kind of friends that don't have to be talking even though mostly they do. Instead Justin hides a smile as the thuds against his chair speed up and he mentally starts a count down, knowing Chris is about to jump up, morning slump over.

"I'm going go get something to eat. You want anything?" Chris asks, already moving as he talks.

Justin shakes his head and indicates a bowl on the floor with a lazy swipe of his hand. Chris shrugs and smiles, and Justin doesn't have to hear the words to know he's thinking _figures_. This silent language is something they are all fluent in, the ability to read one another by tiny movements and facial expressions. It's something they learned as soon as they discovered fame came with a price, and that price was the need to protect yourself at all costs. They all hid behind their personas, and only the most intimate could see the real emotions that bleed through in public.

Comfortable in his chair, Justin rests his head against the high back and looks around the room. Joey is standing near the window, half turned away as he talks on his cell. His face is lit up as he talks, the special glow that means either Kelly or Brianna are on the other end. Looking away to allow Joey the illusion of privacy, Justin feels laughter bubble inside him as Chris sits next to Lance at the table, so close their shoulders are touching. They look at one another, and Lance raises an eyebrow as Chris deliberately places down his plate then starts to eat as if he's not sitting almost in Lance's lap.  Personal space is something that's unknown between the five of them, so Justin's not surprised when Lance simply takes a slice of toast from Chris' plate and eats while Chris describes something with added hand movements and laughter. 

"They're looking good."

Absorbed in watching the others, he hadn't heard JC walk over and turns to see him sitting in the chair Chris had abandoned.

"They do," Justin agrees, and for the first time in a while he really means it. He's been worried about them, especially Chris and Lance who seemed lost for the past year. Now they seem more focused, and Justin's thankful for that because the brighter his star shone the more in his shadow his friends seemed to be. Fame is important to Justin, despite its drawbacks, and he'd never give it up, but at the same time he's spent night after night worrying. 

He's grown used to lying awake, even when Cam's sleeping next to him, exhausted but unable to sleep as he thinks about Chris alone in his house, or Lance drinking away his life. He worries about Joey who's scared of commitment at times, and JC, who suffers the most from being in the shadow. It's what Justin does. He has to worry, but a part of him relaxes as he looks from Joey, who's still talking on his cell to Lance and Chris, who're fighting over the last slice of toast.

"Justin," JC says seriously, and leans forward so they're almost nose to nose. "I need you."

For a moment nothing exists but JC, who stares at him unblinkingly. Tempted to bite and lick, Justin leans forward, needing to get even closer, then springs back at an outburst of loud song. Heart thumping, Justin's torn between thanking Joey and strangling him, then settles for an apologetic smile when Joey catches his eye. Seeing the publicist look over, Justin settles back in his chair, knowing he can't risk getting too close to JC when strangers are in the room. It's frustrating; they haven't had a chance to be alone together for weeks as touring schedules and commitments kept them apart. Now all Justin wants to do is run away with JC and reconnect, but that's impossible, and they both know that.

"Okay, everyone, listen up. We need to get you all to the photo shoot. Can you get ready to go please?" 

Justin looks away from JC and shakes his head as the publicist tries to make himself heard. No one is paying attention; instead Joey pushes his phone in his pocket and sits at the table, reaching for a bacon sandwich. Chris is actually on Lance's lap now, sitting as if it's usual to eat your breakfast like that while Lance casually reaches past him to drink his juice. 

"People, please, we have a schedule to keep." 

The publicist is getting a little red in the face now, so Justin stands, aware - like the others - when play times ends and work begins. He walks from the room with JC's hand on his back, warm and comforting against his skin. As they group at the doorway, changing from five friends to Nsync, JC presses closer and his breath is hot against Justin's neck. 

"We'll talk later, I'll figure something out."

All Justin can do is nod as the door opens to show fans pressed against the windows, their screams shrill even from a distance. At the sound Justin stands straighter and catches Joey's eye. They both grin, already buzzing as they're ushered toward the crowd, and within seconds they're stars again

~*~*~*~

"That's it, look as if you're having fun. Joey, not like you're stoned." 

The photographer prowls around them and Justin effortlessly follows his directions. It's easy to look happy when you _are_ happy, and this photo shoot's more of a party than actual work. Music blasts from somewhere, bass heavy and upbeat, and they're all smiling as they adopt poses that are almost second nature.

"Chris, bend over slightly, that's it. Justin, can you rest against him? Lance, move in an inch."

They move and Justin rests his hand on Chris' back as Lance squashes closer. They're all touching in some way, crammed together and laughing as more and more pictures are taken. JC's elbow is in Justin's side and Joey rests his arm over Lance's shoulder. 

Justin's used to solo shoots now, themed and moody, meticulously designed to show off his body. This is nothing like that. This is unscripted and free flowing, as they follow directions in their own way. One moment Justin has Chris plastered across his back, the next he's on the ground with all four of them sitting on him as he laughs uncontrollably, gasping for mercy. It's been too long since any of them did things like this, and Justin feels lighter somehow as he rediscovers something he didn't even know he missed.

That feeling remains as the hours fly past. They burst out laughing at wearing identical clothes for one set up, teasing and mocking one another as the photographer talks about themes and unity. All Justin knows is they match in a way they haven't done for years, and they talk about the past while wearing shirts that each cost more than an entire years clothing allowance back then.

"Okay, let's wrap this session up. Take a break for lunch; we'll meet back here at one." Passing his camera to an assistant, the photographer laughs as Joey hauls Justin to his feet. "That was great; I should have some proofs to show you before the end of the day, but I know they're going to look fantastic."

"Thanks," Joey says, and he bumps Lance with his elbow before crooking his arm. "May I escort you to lunch, sir?"

"You may." Playing along, Lance allows himself to be escorted by Joey, and they walk out of the studio toward the craft area.

"Bass gets all the men," Chris jokes, and Justin can't help smiling at his exaggerated pout as he starts to leave too, but Justin stops him with a hand to his chest.

"I might not be the catch Joey is, but I'll be honoured to escort you." Justin holds out his hand, trying to maintain a serious expression as Chris looks at him with a huge grin and entwines his fingers with Justin's. They walk to lunch hand in hand, arms swinging while JC follows chatting to the photographer. 

No one gives them a second look as Justin escorts Chris to a chair and pulls it out, dusting off the seat with his arm. "There you go. It's been a pleasure to walk with you."

"Doesn't that mean we're an item now?" Chris asks seriously, and he looks at each of his friends before pressing his hands over his heart and pretending to swoon. "Did you all hear that? I've bagged Justin Timberlake. You can keep Joey, Bass. I've got the star."

"Moron," Justin says, and he sits as Chris cracks up laughing. Reaching for a plate, Justin takes sandwiches off a platter and starts to eat, listening to the talk flow.

"Meet me in the dressing room in ten minutes." 

Startled out of his thoughts, Justin turns his head at JC's quiet words and nods in agreement. He's just glad he's finished lunch, because now that he knows he's going to meet JC, there's no way he can swallow another thing.

~*~*~*~

"JC, are you in here?" Justin walks into the room where the clothes are kept. JC's nowhere in sight, just racks of clothes neatly labelled and covered in plastic ready for the next shoot. Running his hand across a group of what look like white shirts, he moves toward the small bathroom, almost tripping over scattered shoes on his way. "JC!"

"Shush, they'll hear us," JC says quietly as he appears from out of the bathroom. "Shut the door."

Anticipation makes Justin's skin prickle and his belly clench as he quietly shuts the door. His neck itches and he knows JC is staring at him with narrowed eyes. He turns and JC's looking, just like he knew he would be. Justin leans against the door, feeling awkward for the first time. It's always like this, both of them snatching moments together, needing each other so badly, but when it comes to the crunch, reluctant to take that first step to prove it.  

JC's expression is serious, and if Justin weren't watching so closely, he would have missed the flash of uncertainty that crosses his face. As it is, he does see and relaxes a little, knowing he's not the only one on edge.

"In here," JC says and he opens a door half hidden by the rails. Justin follows, then looks around, confused when he finds himself in a small room lined with full-length mirrors.

"I found it just now, when I was waiting for you." JC walks across the room, the sound of his sandals hitting the floor hollow and echoing. "This door leads to the corridor next to the studio. It also locks, see." JC locks the door and turns to Justin. "Yours does too. Lock it."

JC's voice lowers, and Justin fumbles a little as he tries to lock the door without taking his eyes off him.

"I think it's some kind of practice room or something, or at least was. It doesn't look like it's been used for a while." JC turns in a circle and Justin sees him reflected multiple times. Dozens of JCs standing next to dozens of Justins. "As soon as I saw it, I knew it would be a perfect place to meet. I can't wait until tonight. I missed you."

"I missed you too." And it's true. Justin loves Cam, loves his life, but without JC, there's always something missing. The longer they spend apart, the more aware of that he becomes. Suddenly he's desperate to touch and hurries to JC, dizzied by the dozens of reflections that do the same. Justin can't help watching when they meet, seeing the way JC's hands slide across his back and down to his ass, and the way his hands look tangled in JC's hair. Everything is amplified as sight and touch interact, a double intensity that makes Justin shiver as he fights to stay upright. He watches as they kiss, feeling as well as seeing JC's tongue flick across his bottom lip, nipping and pulling slightly, and Justin can't help grinding his hips forward, desperate for contact.

"I know you like to watch." JC's voice is husky and Justin gasps as he suddenly pulls back. "Stay there."  

Surprised, Justin freezes as JC walks to a corner where he crouches down next to an old battered cassette recorder. Suddenly the room is filled with music, and Justin can do nothing but stare when JC moves to the middle of the room. "I found this earlier; the music isn't what I would have chosen, but it'll do." 

Justin doesn't recognise the song at first, then smiles a little in recognition when Al Green starts to sing. He's about to say he knows the song, but shuts his mouth when JC starts to dance, moving in ways totally unsuited to the song, but at the same time just right.

They keep eye contact as much as they can while he dances and Justin can't look away when JC starts to run his hand down his chest, slowly popping open the buttons on his shirt. Soon it's open, and he lets the material drift away from his shoulders and fall to the floor. Kicking it aside, JC runs a finger down his chest, stopping to tease his nipples before sliding slower until he has his fingers in the waist band of his pants.

Justin is panting slightly. He longs to get closer, but JC's backing away. 

It's torture not knowing where to look. The harsh overhead light makes everything stark and bright with JC the brightest of all as his back is reflected over and over, muscles flexing as he tips backs his head, losing himself in the music. Justin can tell this isn't just a show anymore; JC's lost in the beat and the feel of his own body, and he cups his crotch with one hand while using the other to open his pants. 

Gracefully, he manages to kick off his shoes before slowly working down his pants, then turns so Justin can see his ass as he bends to take them off. JC's all lean limbs and hard muscle as he stands in tight white jersey shorts. His eyes are closed now as he uses his hands to explore his own body, still keeping to the beat as he flattens his hand to skim across his belly, fingers brushing through his chest hair up to the hollows of his neck and then down again.

Justin can't help touching himself as he watches, clumsy in his haste to unfasten his fly, hand sliding down the front of his jeans, hips bucking involuntary against his own hand. The beat surrounds him, silky soft but insistent and he can't look away from JC who dances in the middle of the floor. Justin's mesmerised by his movements, and he subconsciously falls in time with them, running his fingers down his cock, pre-come coating his fingers. 

The room seems stifling hot and Justin's dizzy as he sees the mirrors reflect every movement. He sees JC from every angle, lost in the music as he pushes down his boxers, stepping out of them so he can hold his own cock, stroking with gentle fingers and lewd hip thrusts. It's almost too much and Justin moans, desperately pulling at his jeans until they slip over his hips. He has no time for grace, shaking them from his body and kicking so they're across the floor. Shorts follow and Justin's stands only his shirt, shivering as the material falls against sensitive skin.

For a moment JC falters as he sees Justin. Then grinning suggestively, he effortlessly picks up the beat once more

"Dance with me," JC says, and Justin holds out his hand in answer. They clasp one another loosely at first, exploring with slick hands, and the mirrors pull Justin in, spiralling his attention around the room as he sees how good they look, bodies pressed together, JC's hands a constant pressure on his back.

"Look at me, Justin," JC demands, and Justin does, sucking in a breath when he sees JC staring at him as if he can look inside his soul. It's impossible to look away and all Justin can do is hang on, feeling JC's grind against him in a rhythm matched to the beat of the song. It's almost too much and Justin grips onto JC's shoulders, using them as his anchor as he tenses. 

"Look now, Justin. Look." JC's voice is deep and silky smooth, sliding over Justin's sensitive skin, almost overwhelming him with the imagined sensation. Desperately focussing, he does look, then clenches his hands, the sight of their bodies pushing him over the edge. JC follows and Justin shivers at the hot wetness against his skin as they cling together as the song finally ends and the only sound is their breathing. 

 "We'd better get ready; it's nearly one," JC says at last and he breaks the hug before looking for his shorts. Picking them up, he wipes his belly and across his cock and balls before doing the same to Justin.

"If I could, I'd be with you always." It's important that JC knows that, and something inside Justin stills as JC looks at him, half smiling. 

"I know, but you can't. You've got your life, I've got mine. I love you, but we're not ready yet." JC sounds resigned, and he gently brushes his thumb across Justin's mouth, then promises. "Some day, yeah, just not yet."   

Justin nods, not trusting himself to speak, and starts to dress, hiding his watering eyes by bending to pull on his pants. He understands why they can't be together full time, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Career has to come first and that means moving between the woman he's beginning to love and the man he's loved for years.

 In the future things will change. They've lasted this long; he can believe that nothing will break them apart now, and as he watches JC pull on his shoes, Justin knows that at least he has another thing for his memory box. Then sometimes, when he's alone, he can listen to _Love and Happiness_ and remember this moment when his friends are waiting just outside and the man he loves is standing by his side.

"You ready?" 

Justin snaps out of his thoughts, surprised to see JC fully dressed and waiting for him near the door to the dressing room. Hurriedly fastening buttons, Justin soon joins him, then steels himself as he turns the lock.

"They might not be there," JC says, a hope that's smashed as soon as the door opens.

"Could you not wait? Horny fuckers. I thought I was your girl?"

The voices tumble over each other, and Justin can't help laughing as Chris pouts, Joey leers, and Lance pretends to look disappro


End file.
